L
iam glanced back at Molly still asleep. He dressed in running clothes and quietly crept out to the living room. Sandy bounced up from her bed and went to the sliding glass door. Liam smiled as he opened the door and she scurried out. He looked back at Luna, who was fast asleep in her bed. Just like her mother. He closed the door and the two of them went for a run.
At forty-five, it was harder and harder to keep up with the younger generation of Garda officers. It wasn’t long before he was in “the zone” and his mind concentrated on what worried him most.
Molly.
He loved her like no other. Strong willed, courageous, and fearless. That was his Molly.
She scared the daylights out of him.
He recalled a conversation he’d had with his best friend and Garda partner, Gary Wright. “She’s just like my sister,” he said. “You tell her no, she’s going to go at whatever it is, six times harder and probably get herself in trouble. All you can do is support her, and be there when the fire breaks out.”
Which is why, against his better judgement, he’s going to help out and get into see Tom Doyle. Why would Herb want to speak to him? Everyone has a secret, and if our theory was correct, Herb made it a priority to learn them, and then blackmail. He knew little about Tom, but he’d run into him at City Hall in Ballyquicken a few times and they’d made conversation. Hopefully, he’d have time to see him today.
The last kilometer of his run took him to the cliff side overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. He loved this view. He could see rain moving in across the water, the dark clouds moving this way. Hopefully, by the time it made it to shore, he’d be at Rose Cottage.
Thirty minutes later, he’d showered and dressed and was having breakfast with Molly and Colleen. She was as spry as ever at eighty-five. His grandparents on both sides had passed away a long time ago. It was a treasure to know this fine lady, and he’d grown to love her almost as much as he’d loved his own grandparents.
“You look very handsome today, Liam,” Colleen said as he poured himself another cup of tea and took another piece of French toast.
“Thank you, Colleen. I’m going to call and try to set up an appointment to see Tom Doyle today.” He added butter and syrup to his plate and then ate with gusto.
“Hopefully, you’ll get to see him. I’m sure he’s busy with the campaign, but I can’t help but wonder why he would avoid Herb.” His heart beat a little faster as Molly smiled at him.
He swallowed his last bite of the delicious food. “Hopefully, I will have an answer for you this evening.” He wiped his face with his napkin.
Molly refilled his teacup. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” And he kissed her tempting lips.
He called the mayor’s office and was told Tom was at his law office in Ballyquicken. He called there and could make an appointment with for half-past ten.
The raindrops hit the windshield of his Miata as he pulled out of the driveway. He slowly drove down the narrow roads, his window wipers adjusting automatically to the rainfall. He’d left Molly’s a little early so he could stop by his place in Ballyquicken. Enya Ward, his next-door neighbor, offered to monitor the place for him, but he needed to collect his mail and pack some additional clothes. He hated being on administrative leave, but he had to admit, it was nice having a few days off.
The rain had turned into a sprinkle by the time he pulled into his driveway forty-five minutes later. He’d moved into the two-bedroom house after his divorce two years ago. The second bedroom was for his daughter, who spent little time with him these days, as she just turned twenty and was in her second year at Trinity College. It wasn’t much, but it was home.
He’d barely opened the door when he saw Enya walking across her yard toward his car. The black skinny jeans showed off her long legs, her curly auburn hair in some kind of messy tangle on top of her head. He smiled as she tried to finagle her way through the wet grass in those ridiculously high-heel shoes she seems to prefer.
“Liam! It’s so good to see you. Where have you been hiding lately?”
He shut the door to the car as he answered. “In Dooley. How are you Enya?” He would have made his way to the door to his house, but experience told him she’d follow, so he stood there as they talked.
“Is what I’ve heard true? They’ve fired you? What are those eejits thinking? You’re the best detective they have.”
He smiled. “No, they haven’t fired me. I’m on administrative leave as I am involved in an ongoing case.”
She ran her long, crimson painted fingernail down his jacket. “You know, I could help you fill up that time.” She smiled.
He removed her hand from his coat. “Thanks, but Molly is about all I can handle right now.”
She dropped her hand as her smile faded. “Oh, you’re still involved with her?”
“Yes. Hopefully for a very long time. I’m sorry Enya.”
She turned to go, then stopped and turned back. “Well, when you want a real woman, you know where I am.” She winked at him and walked toward her house.
He was shaking his head as he unlocked his front door and collected the mail. He made sure all of his windows were closed and locked, gathered some additional clothes and, within ten minutes, was back in his car and on his way downtown.
He found a parking space two blocks from the law office of Doyle, Kincaid, and Lawton. He walked into a large office with plush carpet and leather furniture. A man occupied the chair behind the desk, which he had to admit surprised him.
“Hello, I’m Liam Fitzgerald. I have an appointment with Mr. Doyle for half past ten.”
The young man, about twenty-two years of age, smiled at him as he picked up the phone. “I’ll let Mr. Doyle know you’re here.”
The young man spoke so low, Liam could hardly hear. A few seconds later, he nodded toward one of the leather chairs. “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Doyle’s assistant will be with you shortly.”
He’d barely sat down when a door opened behind the young man, and a short blond woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, came out to greet him.
“Mr. Fitzgerald? I’m Dorris Langton, Mr. Doyle’s assistant. Would you come with me, please?”
She walked him down a long-carpeted hallway with pictures of people he didn’t recognize and didn’t care to check the name plates underneath. She entered another plush office, this time crossing the room to where a door stood open a few inches.
She knocked lightly.
“Come in.”
“Mr. Doyle, Mr. Fitzgerald here to see you.”
She opened the door wider and motioned him in.
Tom Doyle couldn’t have stood over five feet six, but his burly stature made him look taller. He held out his hand and Liam couldn’t help but notice how strong his handshake was.
“Detective Fitzgerald, isn’t it?” He waved him toward one of the comfortable chairs. Liam sat.
“It is, but I’m currently on administrative leave.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Would you like me to take the case to get your job back?
“That’s not why I’m here.” Liam explained the situation. “I’m actually here to talk to you about Herb Weston.”
Tom took a deep breath. “I heard about his death. I’m sorry I couldn’t help him, now especially.”
“What exactly was he looking for help with? If you don’t mind my asking.” Liam pulled out his notebook and pen.
Tom sat back in his overstuffed chair. “Does this have to do with the argument at the castle the other evening?”
Liam nodded.
“It comes down to Mr. Weston wanting a meeting with the mayor, who was out of town. He didn’t believe me, so we argued.”
“I read the article in the paper. He hasn’t returned yet?”
“It’s a sad situation. The mayor makes a point of visiting his parents in Cong on the anniversary. They still expect Ian to walk through the door.”
“Even though there’s been no contact in all this time?”
“I know. The parents hired private detectives after he went missing, and the mayor thought about doing one last year, but didn’t want to get his parent’s hopes up. We have put a notice on the file though to if his name pops up in the system, we’d be notified, but so far nothing.”
“Did Herb tell you what he wanted to see him about?”
“I asked, but he said it was a personal matter with the mayor.”
Liam couldn’t think of anything else, so he stood up and held out his hand. “Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your help.”
Tom stood up and took his hand. “You’re welcome, but was I?”
Liam smiled. “You never know. It’s like putting pieces of a puzzle together.”
Tom came around the desk, and they walked out of his office. Liam looked at him. “If you think of anything else, would you call me?” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Tom.
“Sure.”
The rain had stopped, so Liam walked a block south and stopped at his office. The Garda police department was on the bottom floor of City Hall. He waved to some officers, and checked the office of his good friend, Gary Wright, surprised to find him in. Using his knuckles, he knocked on the door. Gary looked up and smiled.
“Hey. Good to see you. Have a seat.”
Liam shut the door and sat down in one of the plastic chairs in front of his desk. Unlike the offices upstairs, our budget didn’t lean toward comfortable chairs.
“Thanks.”
He considered Gary one of his best friends. They’d been there for each other through thick and thin. He put his elbows on his thigh and ran his hand over his chin.
“Something wrong?”
Liam looked at him. “You heard I’m on administrative leave?”
He smiled. “The entire office is buzzing about it. I heard you found a dead body?”
“Aye. Along with Molly and her grandmother.”
He chuckled then. “It involves Molly? No wonder you look like a tightly wound ball of string.”
“That’s not all. You heard Matt Elliott has the case?”
His smile faded. “I did. Does he still have it in for Molly after she solved his case last Christmas?”
“She thinks so.”
Gary leaned back in his chair. “Ah, so that’s why you’re worried. She’s investigating, isn’t she?”
He nodded. “Worse. She’s gotten me involved.”
He grinned. “If you can’t beat em’, join em’, hey?”
Liam smiled. “I guess so. She’s gathering the Scooby Gang tonight at her house.”
Gary laughed. “I think that name is taken. She has to come up with something more original.”
They talked about some of the other cases, and Liam asked Gary if he recalled anything about the disappearance of Ian Wilson about twenty years ago.
He shook his head and then started typing. A few minutes later, the printer in Gary’s office hummed. Gary pulled the pages off the printer and handed them to Liam, who folded them in half and put them in his coat pocket.
“With him being over eighteen, and no signs of foul play, I’m sure they didn’t do much.”
“Tom Dooley said the family hired private investigators, but they found nothing.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with Weston’s death?”
“Probably not. Just wanted to check the details.” He waved to his friend as he left his office. “Thanks.”
Liam went to his own office and cleared up some paperwork and checked his email. Thirty minutes later, he was on his way back to Dooley.